All I Want for Christmas
by Torahiko
Summary: The Christmas Blues have set in for Vincent, enduring yet another post-Meteor winter alone in cheery Nibelheim. When a freak storm devastates the ShinRa mansion, Cid gives the ex-Turk shelter, hoping to revive his own holiday spirits. Valenwind shonen ai.


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All I Want For Christmas   
A FFVII fan fiction   
By Torahiko  
I do not own FFVII or anything inherent therein. Please review! 

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Summary: The Christmas Blues have set in for Vincent, enduring yet another post-Meteor winter alone in cheery Nibelheim. When a freak storm devastates the ShinRa mansion, Cid gives the ex-Turk shelter, hoping to revive his own holiday spirits. Valenwind shonen-ai. You've been warned.   


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The hazy morning light poured through the window of the ShinRa mansion. It danced on cobwebs left undisturbed for decades, creating misty rainbows amidst the threads. The silence of the day saturated every surface of the house, every crevice of every room, except for one.

In one room, deep underground in the basement of the mansion, there was a distinct shuffling about, the only sign of life in an otherwise dead building. A sudden crash shattered the unnatural peace of the room, and a beastly snarl soon followed.

In the smothering darkness, human eyes would never see the shadow that seemed to writhe on the damp soil ground. A shadow that cast all others away, intent on preserving its miserable solitude. A shadow that held two haunting orbs of red in its form, and where something glittered gold and deadly.

Vincent Valentine. An ex-Turk of the ShinRa Corporation, forced to endure an eternity of self-induced condemnation for a life that dripped with the blood of his victims. A failed experiment of the insane biochemical genius Hojo, contorted into a being hardly "human" by scientific definition.

Vincent had thrown himself out of his coffin in perfect anguish. Neither his nightmares nor his demons were the cause, but instead his own morbid mind, which had wrapped itself around an inevitable occurrence. It was December. The 3rd of the month, to be exact, and the following day would hold memories of one person. There was only ever one person.

"Lucrecia...!"

December 4th was her day of birth. She would be 66 today were she still alive. Vincent himself was 60 years old technically, although he still held the appearance of 20-something. His inability to age, to surrender to the law of entropy, was one of the many curses he found himself brooding upon in the gloom of the Nibelheim morning. His claw he did not mind as much. After the year and some that he traveled with the AVALANCHE group, and after the whole ordeal of destroying Sephiroth, Meteor, and supposedly saving the world, he had found the steel appendage useful more than a handful of times. Even his enhanced senses and abilities he had come to appreciate, as they had proven more helpful than any of the other results of his torture.

But the way that time seemed to completely overlook him, that disturbed him the most. It was the most obvious of his abnormalities at times, golden claw and garnet eyes notwithstanding. At least, he noticed. And he could see it in the eyes of others, sometimes. A spark of horrific recognition would light in the face of the elderly, the fading generation. Certainly Lord Godo Kisaragi of Wutai remembered him, back when they had chased Yuffie through the small resort town. His countenance was an interesting mix of shock and indignant rage. Rest assured that the group did not linger.

Vincent shuddered and ground his fingers into the dirt, heaving forward to rest his forehead on the cool surface. Somehow, in his thrashing, his bandanna had come apart. Beneath the veil of black, his heated breath made strands of hair stick to his face. Yuffie. Cid. Cloud. Sephiroth. Holy. Meteor. Hojo.

"Hojo...!"

He ground his teeth together, both hands gripping his head. The familiar throbbing had begun, the stirring in the corners of his mind. Rage, such rage. The taste of it was bitter in his mouth, and he spat the man's foul name out. Hojo was the cause of all his pain, all his suffering. Even crushing his skull with his own hands did not bate the contempt that threaded through his heart.

Vincent groaned, still clutching his head, and raised himself to his feet. Chaos was stirring, pressing against his mind. He held the rage back, held it back with all his will. And slowly, the anger melted into fear and loathing. He calmly lowered his hands, silent bitter tears cutting down his face. He couldn't understand how Hojo still held such power over him. He smirked and began laughing, but the sound was as hollow as he felt.

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"Damnit, Vinnie, you can't keep moping around forever!"

Yuffie kicked at a rock on the ground, and skillfully hurled it at Vincent's head. He simply turned his profile to her, glancing back, and the stone flew harmlessly through the air. His face was deadpan as usual, but his eyes held an annoyance that only Yuffie Kisaragi could evoke. She offered him the most innocent smile she could. It was very hard to keep a straight face.

"Ya gotta play with the hand yer dealt! Else, stop wastin' space!" She tensed up and kicked another rock, and she swore that he would've let it knock him square in the forehead. But an indeterminable moment passed, and he was holding the rock in his claw. He simply let it fall from his palm, turned, and kept walking, looking as unamused as ever.

"Eh, dun let that vamp get on ya, brat!"

"Who ya callin a brat, geezer!" Yuffie turned on her heel and gave Cid the best glare she's ever learned. You can learn alot from watching Vincent mope. And it almost worked, but Cid just roughly tousled her hair and walked past her. She snarled and contemplated flinging a rock his way too.

"Watch yer damn mouth, brat. Respect yer elders, er I'll give ya a spankin!" He grinned as he glanced over his shoulder. Oh yes, who could resist that Highwind Charm? But despite the grin that shined like the Mideel sun above them, his eyes were a more serious shade of blue. "Jus' leave 'im alone. Ya know how he gets." His voice lowered slightly, enough to insist that she not argue.

"Yea, yea.." Yuffie mumbled, still staring after the man in red. She turned as something to the left caught her eye. "WHOA! Chocobo at eight o'clock! Cloud'll love this one!" And, with Conformer in hand, she dashed into battle, Cid and Vincent following soon after.

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Inside, he knew that he did not love Lucrecia anymore. Somehow, throughout the year or so that he had spent with the AVALANCHE group, his all-encompassing love for her had faded until it was only a shadow of its former passion.

Vincent sighed as he pulled the worn basement door open and stepped out with his Death Penalty in tow. The musty air rushed to greet him, as well as a strange sensation. There was something almost alive in the air around him, causing the small hairs on his neck to prickle. He closed his eyes and listened. In the distance, he could hear the faint rumbling of a thunderstorm. But considering that he was underground, the storm was probably closer than first estimation. That meant that the electricity in the air was a sign of very powerful lightning. Taking all this into account, he made his way up the spiral staircase. Each step was quiet, but illicited a weak groan from the wood underneath. It was unnerving, as he was used to silent footfall.

Reaching the main floor, he grunted as he noticed that the air was more heavily charged. He slowly made his way through the dark mansion, wordlessly noting rooms that held more charge than others. Sharp cracks of thunder accompanied the blinding flashes of lightning, and he could feel the electricity rise in the mansion. He heard a small sizzle, and he glanced down to his claw in time to see blue wires of energy crackling over the surface. A thin dark brow quirked at the sight.

"Not good..."

There couldn't have been a worse understatement as a bolt of lightning suddenly crashed against the roof, splintering the beams. Vincent quickly dashed to his right as massive shards of wood pierced the air. A ceiling beam collided against the spot he just stood, exploding into fragments. Thunder boomed through the gaping hole in the roof, and another crack of lightning lit the sky. The gunman ran a hand through his hair before brushing the dust off his cape. Dry thunderstorms were a rarity, and he had never experienced one of this intensity. Yet he had enough sense not to stick around and admire it. A somber smile tugged at his lips as he secured his Death Penalty to his side.

"Pity..."

Apparently, the storm didn't think he was moving fast enough, and another streak of lightning assaulted the mansion. More wooden debris shot through the air, and there was a loud crackling sound followed by a quiet sizzling. Vincent grimaced as bitter smoke wafted to greet him. Whatever had been ignited was spreading quickly, he suspected. He estimated that he had about four minutes before the roof caved in.

With that in mind, he dashed back to the spiral stairs that led to the basement. Throwing the door wide open, he leapt forward, one hand reaching for the rusted stair rail. He flipped over the rail and shot down the stair case without a second thought. Two seconds later, he connected with the ground, landing in a crouch and bouncing to his feet. He then glanced back up the tunnel while dusting himself off. He was honestly surprised that it had supported his weight.

After sparing himself a moment of contemplation, he pushed off again, running down the hall. Darting into the room of coffins, he snatched up a knapsack from the corner. Various materia, extra clothing, and other essentials were hastily packed up.

Vincent then made one last scan of the room.

On the floor, a few feet away, he noticed a silver picture frame. He swooped down to retrieve it. The protective glass had shattered, and the frame itself was layered with dust. He realized it must have fallen during his thrashing. Behind the glass, a woman in a lab coat stared back at him, a ghostly smile frozen on her somber face. The ex-Turk felt his heart tighten, but he knew it was only a phantom pain. He held no love for her anymore.

With new resolve, he strode to the desk and set the picture frame down on its face. He then grabbed his knapsack and walked out of the room, not looking back once.

His firm strides slowed to a halt as he acknowledged the new obstacle before him. The decrepit staircase was now only firewood, having been engulfed in the hungry flames from the first floor. Being burned alive was not an appealing thought, and so it was with self-preservation in mind (for once) that he lifted a mastered Ice materia out of the sack.

"Ice2..."

A flash of cold burst from the gunman's hand. The chill mist washed over the fire, dimming the flames significantly, before a sea of ice crystals exploded across the tower of stairs. He pocketed the materia and released Death Penalty from its holster. Raising the gun in a steel grip, he then proceeded to shoot into the wall of ice, forming a vertical line of holes. Securing the gun again, Vincent leapt to the wall and gripped one of the holes. His claw nestled into another gap, and within seconds he had scaled the frozen surface.

He now stood at the edge of Hell itself. Bright orange flames licked at the charred ceiling and danced across the ashy floor. In the room down the hall, he could hear another wooden beam being wrenched apart by gravity and crashing to the floor. There wasn't much time.

Vincent ran through the hallway, trying to inhale as little smoke as possible. He turned a corner, and behind him he heard another clash of lightning. Claret eyes widened as a massive wave of heat flooded the hall. No going back. He squinted through the thick blackened air and located a window. He rushed to it and threw it open. Outside he could hear panicked screams and orders being barked back and forth, all but muted by the monstrous claps of thunder. His hand clenched around the shoulderstrap of his pack, and he flung the bag so that it landed in the wild brush.

One hand on his Death Penalty, he crawled through the window and rested one foot on the ledge. Crouching, he set the other foot down as well. He felt the building shudder, and the wooden frame moaned as it distorted from the pressure. The heat behind him flared against his back, and he swore it was fire. The gunman steeled himself, and he pushed off from the ledge as hard as he could.

He let his eyes slide shut, soothed by the cool breeze. White light flashed against his lids, and thunder boomed around him. The sensation of free-falling was incredibly calming, and he was reminded of Cid Highwind. Cid tried to express his passion of flying countless times, and he claimed it never came out the way he wanted it to. Yet, for this one moment, Vincent felt as if he understood what Cid had been trying to say. The thought brought a rare smile to his lips. The entire experience was surreal, to say the least. But it was time to wake up.

Vincent opened his eyes and estimated the force of landing before ducking his head and curving his metal arm in front of him. As soon as he connected, he used his claw to push off the ground and roll forward. He then dug his heel into the dirt, exhausting all the momentum he carried. He laid on the dying grass for a moment and stared up to the sky. It was a war of blue, purple, and grey, and not half a minute had passed before he felt the first drops of rain splash against his cheek.

Then, without warning, water came down like a flood of tears. Thunder echoed like heaving sobs; each stroke of light was a new lamenting cry. For some reason, Vincent found silent tears streaming the sides of his face. He knew he wouldn't make sense of this moment for a good many years. But for now, he lifted himself from the ground and ran a hand through his matted hair. There was much to do, and the first would be to find his knapsack.

Vincent trudged slowly through the brush that lined the border of the ShinRa property, enjoying the rain that washed over him. It might have been corny, buthe felt as if he was being cleansed of his pain and being given a new beginning. Granted, he was sure it would take more than a December thunderstorm to heal his scars, but everything had to start somewhere.

"...I must be going insane," he quipped, amusedly horrified at his romantic optimism. He shook his head free of that train of thought and stooped to retrieve the pack at his feet. Slinging it over his shoulder, he then turned to travel to the Nibelheim Inn. He could change his clothes there and perhaps rent a chocobo. He hadn't made much of a plan of where he would go, but he knew one place he could.

"Rocket Town..."

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Yes! Torahiko is back on the field! This time, I'm dipping my toes into my original fandom. Let me know what you think of it: review! And I shall love you forever.

-Torahiko-

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